Icarus and Daedalus
by markspectre
Summary: This story picks up at some unspecified time after the ending of "Human Revolution." Deception, intrigue, action, and romance await. Features a romance that I think a lot of people have been waitng to see.
1. Chapter 1

Icarus and Daedalus

Chapter 1

***_Ok, folks, here goes nothing. This is my first fanfiction. Ever. I recently finished playing Deus Ex: Human Revolution, and decided to write a story that takes place after you make the final choice at Panchaea. This chapter is LONG. Sorry. Please bear with me. Please read and review. Also, please read the entire note at the bottom. Thanks. _***

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><p>Adam Jensen walked into the dimly lit pub in Duluth, Minnesota and moved towards the bar for a drink. His current orders were to wait somewhere while Faridah Malik, Sarif Industries' chief pilot, conducted airborne reconnaissance on their target. A bar probably wasn't the best place to be while on the job, but at 23:00, everywhere else on the street was closed, and he wasn't going to wait for Malik on some exposed street corner during this particular rainstorm. There were no windows in this pub, so the patrons looked through the open doorway as Adam entered to get a look at the weather outside. The brief glimpse of the violent thunderstorm only just beginning was enough to convince everyone in the pub to settle in and order another round rather than head home. "What'll you have?" asked the bartender as Adam sat down at a stool. "Bourbon, neat," Adam replied. "Any preference on the brand?" the bartender inquired. "Something good," responded Jensen. As the bartender measured out a dose of Woodford Reserve, Francis Pritchard's voice crackled over Adam's Infolink. "Drinking on duty, are we?" came Pritchard's trademark sarcastic drawl. "Why the hell not? It's been one of those years, Pritchard."<p>

It certainly had. The shitstorm resulting from Adam's actions following the attack on Sarif Industries was finally starting to clear up. Adam had chosen to remain an employee of David Sarif for a few reasons. Any ulterior motives notwithstanding, Sarif _had_ saved his life, and he supposed he owed the man some measure of loyalty. He also couldn't deny that the considerable paycheck he received was a strong incentive to stay on. But mostly, Adam continued to work for Sarif because, quite frankly, he didn't have much else to do. No police force would touch him, given the events of the previous year combined with his less-than-pleasant departure from Detroit PD, and working for some PMC like Belltower or Bluewater would never be an option, no matter how much money they offered to throw his way. So, Adam Jensen found himself as the head of security for Sarif Industries as well as the occasional private detective for the good people of Detroit.

It was Jensen's growing popularity as a PI that made David Sarif realize what an asset he had in terms of corporate espionage, or rather, counter-espionage. Sarif Industries, like any other huge multinational corporation, had its fair share of detractors, disgruntled former employees and customers, and outright enemies. Most of them confined their activities to petty vandalism and generating bad publicity towards the company, but some posed more of a threat. More than once, some skilled hacker with an axe to grind with Sarif had decided to actually do some real damage. Altering records, re-routing shipping orders, and even stealing funds from company accounts had been attempted by hackers with varying degrees of success. Usually, Pritchard's skills were enough to stop the hackers and prevent any serious trouble, but occasionally someone came along who was able to leave even Pritchard vexed. In these situations, Adam was often called in to find the hackers personally and physically disrupt their sabotage. Currently, one extremely skilled hacker was stealing massive sums of credits from Sarif Industries' accounts. For three weeks, the hacker had been able to get in and out without a trace, but finally, he made a mistake and left a back door open for Pritchard to find. Pritchard quickly tracked him down to an apartment in Duluth, and David Sarif had ordered Jensen to find him and interrogate him in order to recover the stolen credits. It was this assignment that had Jensen sitting in a pub just off the shore of Lake Superior on a cold November night, waiting for Malik to finish up her recon and report back. He texted his location to Malik's computer so that she would know where to find him. Ordinarily, he would have called her via Infolink, but he knew that Malik would be concentrating hard on flying _and_ reconnaissance, and he figured that a text would be less distracting. He doubted that her recon would be terribly fruitful. Even with the aircraft's advanced imaging equipment, the rain and electrical activity would make it difficult to see much of anything. However, that wasn't Adam's primary concern. Given the weather, he just hoped that she wouldn't end up being fished out of the lake by the Coast Guard.

Faridah Malik walked into the bar where Adam told her to meet him. She was thankful for her water-repellant clothing, but she wished that she had something to keep her warm. She knew that Jensen had heating coils built into his augmentations to keep him comfortable, but she was freezing. It was only a quarter-mile to the pub from the landing site, and already her teeth were chattering uncontrollably. She walked into the pub as Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald" finished playing on the radio and sat on the stool next to Adam. "Hey, Spy Boy," she said in the playful tone she usually used when speaking to Jensen. "Hey, Fly Girl," he replied while looking her over. She certainly did look uncomfortable. Her normally slightly spiked, close-cropped brown hair was plastered to her head from the rain, and her ears were bright red from the cold. "What's the matter Fly Girl?" he asked playfully. "You forget your umbrella?" Faridah punched him lightly on the shoulder and immediately regretted it; the action rewarding her with only a sharp stinging as her frozen hand impacted the hard steel and carbon fiber of Adam's cybernetic arm. She winced visibly, and Adam chuckled, earning him an equally painful flick to his right ear. "Superior, it's said, never gives up her dead when the Gales of November come early," said Faridah, quoting the song that had just finished playing. "Boy, you got that right," she continued. "I thought that storm was going to throw me straight into the lake." Adam passed her a large mug of fresh coffee. Faridah gave him a quizzical look. "I ordered it when you told me that you were on your way," explained Adam. "I figured you could use something to warm you up." "That was sweet of you. Thanks," she replied. That _was_ sweet of him, she thought to herself as she sipped her coffee. Then again, she wasn't surprised. It was little things like that which made her enjoy working with Jensen. Being a VIP pilot for Sarif Industries, she often had to work with rich executives who treated her like some sort of servant. She was one of the best pilots in the skies, but very few people seemed to acknowledge that. Even David Sarif sometimes treated her like a glorified chauffer. To his credit, it was not a sign of disrespect on Sarif's part. Rather, he was usually so busy that the pilot of the VTOL that he was riding in was probably the last thing on his mind. Faridah understood that, but then, that's what made working with Jensen all the more enjoyable. When she was with him, she was treated as an equal. Hell, she _was_ an equal. More often than not, she was Jensen's only backup, and over the course of the last year spent helping Jensen with his PI work as well as his company assignments, her skills on the ground had been just as invaluable as her skills in the air, if not more so. Not to mention, Adam was easily the most attractive man who'd ever flown in the back of her bird… Adam's voice brought her focus back to the current situation. He wanted to know the results of her reconnaissance. She told him. It was fairly straightforward. Three-story apartment building, no real security to speak of, no known threats in the area. She had pinpointed the hacker's apartment in the complex and Pritchard had looked up the lease details and determined that only one tenant was registered to the apartment. Hopefully it would be a simple matter of kicking down the door, interrogating the hacker, destroying his equipment, and giving Sarif the information necessary to retrieve the company's stolen credits. The two of them finished their drinks, paid the tab, and walked out into the roaring gale.

Adam and Faridah walked down the street towards the hacker's apartment complex, Adam being led by his Wayfinder augmentation. The two of them shared Adam's umbrella, although given that the rain was practically blowing sideways due to the high winds, it made little difference. Had anyone else been on the streets that night, the pair certainly would have attracted second glances. Jensen was a tall, heavily augmented, well-built man, with an imposing stance, and a don't-fuck-with-me attitude. And then there was Malik. Malik was fairly tall for a woman, standing at an impressive five feet, eleven inches, and even though she was wearing her flight suit, she would still have attracted the attention of male passersby. She was a fair-skinned woman in her mid-twenties with a slim figure and a clear complexion, save for a small mole on her right upper lip. Her richly-colored brown eyes always had a playful twinkle to them that endeared her to almost everyone she met. For all appearances, she was the typical girl-next-door. Anyone who actually knew her knew the real story. For all of her feminine good looks, she was a complete tomboy. She'd never been to a nail salon in her life and refused to wear makeup. She wouldn't be caught dead in the ladies' section of a clothing store, preferring instead to wear blue jeans and T-shirts when she wasn't in her Sarif-issue flight suit. She preferred the social company of men over women, and she could fight, swear, and drink with the best of them. She was, quite simply, a stereotypical flyboy: a wild-spirited daredevil who constantly toed the line between brave and crazy. Whether it was flying down the freeway at 180 miles per hour on a motorcycle, or performing aerobatics that would make the Blue Angels squeamish, she wasn't truly content unless she was doing something that ordinary people would consider to be insanely dangerous.

As a child, she had been more or less the same. She was born into a fairly moneyed family in the year 2002 in Dearborn, Michigan. They were not part of what the Occupy Wall Street movement of 2011 would have called the "one percent," but they certainly never hurt financially. She was an only child, but due to her tomboy nature, the family would often joke that her parents had been blessed with a daughter _and_ a son. In addition to being an expert former pilot for the United States Air Force, her father had a love of things that went fast, two of which were a heavily modified 1969 Chevy Camaro SS and a restored P51 Mustang. While other girls her age were learning gymnastics and ballet, she was learning marksmanship and Krav Maga from her father, and while other adolescent girls spent their time going to malls and the movies, she spent her time overhauling big block Chevrolets and helping her dad with aircraft maintenance. And when kids her age were starting to get their driver's licenses, she was a licensed pilot. Her fondest memory from high school was the day of the senior prom, but instead of going to the dance, she was flying her father's restored warbird in an air show in New York City. She followed in her father's footsteps to become a pilot, but a career in the military had never interested her, so she moved back and forth between companies as a corporate pilot before settling in with Sarif Industries. Sarif had proved to be an excellent choice. With Sarif, not only was she well-paid to ferry executives to various locations, she also got sent on assignments that could get her adrenaline flowing properly. Lately, most of those assignments had been with Jensen. They worked extremely well together and, ever since the incident in Lower Hengsha when Adam had saved her from almost certain death, they shared a bond that only exists between soldiers thrust into the hellish chaos of combat. The pair had earned the reputation of getting things done quickly with minimal, if any, collateral damage. So, when Sarif needed a hacker interrogated in an occupied apartment complex in the middle of a suburb without anyone else knowing about it, Jensen and Malik were his first choice.

The storm grew worse as the two of them got closer to the hacker's location. Adam noticed that Faridah was shivering. He increased the output of the heating coils in his prosthetic limbs and put his arm around her. She moved closer to him, resting her frozen cheek against his metallic shoulder as they walked down the street drenched with rain. Adam's gesture was not the least bit intimate, but Faridah couldn't help but notice certain things about him. She noticed his smell: some kind of spicy cologne; strong but not unpleasantly so. She noticed the feel of his body, augmentations included. Granted, he didn't have very much natural muscle left, but what he did have was well built, and the transition from flesh to metal was seamless. Plus, the prosthetics were sexy in a way. They were the same size as normal arms, as opposed to the bulky appendages of Tai Yong Medical, and were constructed from exotic metals and carbon fiber. The whole thing reminded her of her uncle's Corvette Stingray. Sleek and powerful. But still organic. That was the genius of Sarif Industries' prosthetics, she decided. They still looked and felt human. She had been in the arms of men before, and apart from the hardness of the metal and carbon, there was no difference between a human arm and Adam's cybernetic arm. Anyway, as she discovered when Adam pulled her from the damaged VTOL in Hengsha, his mechanical limbs could be as gentle as those of a normal man. She snapped herself out of that train of thought. Plenty of time to think about that during the flight home, she told herself. Still, she was a little bit sorry when they reached their destination and Adam pulled his arm away.

The attitudes of Jensen and Malik changed instantly. While they had been fairly casual in the pub and on the street, as soon as they reached the apartment complex, they were all business. The complex was rather nice, with all of the hallways leading to the different apartments located inside one large building, rather than several buildings with external hallways and staircases. They approached the entrance, checked their weapons, and Adam performed a final check with his visual enhancement. "Nobody in the hallways," Adam confirmed. "We go straight up the first staircase and make a left. The hacker's apartment is the last door on the right. Let's make this quick." The two agents entered the building, ascended the staircase, and moved quickly to the hacker's door, never noticing the small camera that the hacker had installed in the hallway. Jensen and Malik both drew their sidearms. The Zenith 10mm pistol felt slightly foreign in Malik's hand. Her preferred weapon was the .45 caliber Colt 1911 which, despite being designed well before her grandparents were born, remained in production as a proven shooting platform. However, since this mission required stealth and her 1911 wasn't terribly well-suited to a silencer, she found herself with the Zenith. Still, while it may have felt a bit foreign to her, she was lethally precise with it. Jensen opted not to waste any time hacking the lock to the door, instead preferring to kick the door off of its hinges with one swift motion. The hacker spun around from his workstation to face them. His first thought was to grab the .44 magnum sitting on the desk, but he thought better of it once he saw the two pistols pointed at him and noticed the two red laser dots fixed squarely over his heart. Malik walked to the desk and took the revolver and was about to start asking questions, when Adam answered a call on his Infolink. "Shit!" he yelled. "Malik, we gotta move. Now!" Malik was confused. "What the hell, Jensen?" she asked. "Pritchard picked up 12 men converging on the apartment," Adam responded. "This geek's got some friends who don't want us talking to him, and there's only one exit out of this place. We're not equipped for a firefight, and even if we were, I don't want these tenants caught in the crossfire. We have to get out of here before they block the exit." Malik began to move towards the door. The hacker decided to taunt the two agents. "Looks like the help I called got here just in time. Sorry you have to dash off so soon, guys. Say 'hi' to my pals on the way out," he cackled. "Maybe you can chat longer next time." Jensen grabbed him by the back of the neck and began dragging him out of the apartment. "You're coming with us, asshole," he growled.

Jensen passed the hacker off to his companion and descended the staircase first. "We might be able to run away from this one, but we have to move fast," he called back. Malik was struggling to drag their prisoner along, the hacker having decided to go limp in an effort to slow her down. Weighing 200 pounds, he was fairly successful. Jensen opened the door to the building and a .357 round slammed into the brick, inches away from his head. "Too late!" he yelled, as he dived back behind cover. "Malik, I need some help," yelled Jensen. "But make sure that son of a bitch doesn't run off." Thinking fast, Malik grabbed a set of handcuffs, a roll of electrician's tape, and a fragmentation grenade, and dragged the hacker to the handrail of the staircase. She cuffed one wrist to the railing and taped the body of the grenade to the same hand. She clasped the hacker's other hand around the grenade's spoon and then pulled the pin. "Don't do anything stupid," she snarled, before running to join her partner. They were most definitely outgunned by their attackers. The twelve men approaching them were armed with combat rifles, machine pistols, and shotguns. Jensen and Malik each had a 10mm pistol and two extra 15-round magazines. They would have to make their shots count. The first two attackers charged wildly at the doorway and were quickly put down with several shots to the chest. The third attacker was firing controlled bursts from his machine pistol, forcing Jensen and Malik to stay hidden behind cover. However, he made the fatal mistake of leaving himself exposed with no cover to hide behind when his magazine ran dry. Jensen seized the opportunity to fire a well-placed round at the attacker's heart. The attacker remained standing as he furiously worked to reload his weapon. Realizing that he was wearing body armor, Jensen snarled and emptied his magazine into the thug's chest, dropping him onto the drenched parking lot. Malik and Jensen found themselves reloading at the same time, and seeing their vulnerability, two men rushed the entrance, wielding shotguns. Both agents reacted almost simultaneously. Jensen swung his leg out, sending the thug sprawling onto the floor, and before the assailant could rise, Jensen had driven his left combat blade through the man's temple. Malik moved with both graceful elegance and lethal force. She switched her pistol to her left hand and used her right hand to grab the barrel of the second thug's shotgun as he ran down the entryway. Twisting the shotgun from his grasp, she drove the butt of her pistol into the man's diaphragm, dropping him to his knees. Without hesitation, she grabbed the thug's head in a well-practiced hold and deftly snapped his neck. With five of their number gone in under two minutes, the remaining attackers dropped back behind cover and began to work smarter. What followed was five minutes of intense shooting that ended with the final thug having most of his head forcibly removed by a blast from the shotgun of the man that Jensen had killed earlier.

Breathing heavily, Jensen and Malik moved out into the parking lot to make sure that the threats were eliminated. Very quickly something came to Jensen's attention that he voiced aloud. "Hold on, Malik. Pritchard said that there were twelve of these guys. I'm only counting elev—" "Oh shit!" yelled Malik. Jensen spun around to see what Malik was looking at. "Fuck!" he shouted. The twelfth thug had slipped past them as they were checking the parking lot, and was quickly trying to cut through the hacker's handcuff chain with a pair of bolt cutters. Malik and Jensen had both emptied their sidearms, so Malik quickly reached for the .44 that she'd taken from the hacker's desk. However, before she could draw and fire, the thug cut through the chain, ripped the grenade free from the hacker's hand, and threw it at the two agents. Jensen and Malik dove behind parked cars as the grenade detonated where they had been standing only moments before. Malik then jumped up and gunned down the thug in the entryway. The hacker, however, was nowhere to be found. Jensen and Malik looked everywhere around the complex to no avail. It was as though the hacker had simply vanished. "Damn. That fat ass can really move when he wants to," said Malik. "No kidding," responded Jensen. "I need to call Sarif. He's not going to like this."

Malik was breathing hard. Combat was still a relatively new experience for her; she had not yet fully learned to master the thoughts and emotions that came with it. The adrenaline rush, the fear of death, the thrill and horror of killing an enemy, and the coming down after the action was over left her drained and shaking. She focused on what Adam had told her after her first firefight. Calm down, she told herself. Breathe regular. Feel your feet on the ground. It's over; you survived. You're going to be ok. Her hands were shaking and she felt unsteady. Jensen was still talking to Sarif via Infolink, but, sensing her unease, he gently put his arm across her shoulders to steady her. Jensen was shaken a bit as well. He had quite a bit more experience with combat, between his work with Detroit SWAT and the events of the past year, but still. That attack had been sudden, he had been vastly outgunned, the attackers were reasonably well trained, and his target had escaped. It seemed as though someone had gone to quite an effort to strike at Sarif Industries.

Thirty minutes later, after a rather heated discussion with David Sarif, Adam and Faridah checked into a hotel. The storm had only gotten worse, and flying back home would have been stupid, even for a pilot of Malik's skill level. Not to mention, they were both pretty shaken up, and really just wanted to take a shower and crash. So, Sarif authorized them to check into a hotel for the night on the company's dime. It was a nice hotel, nicely furnished, well decorated, and with high thread-count sheets. Not that either of them really cared. A blanket and something other than the floor would have been adequate for both of them. Adam had finished showering and was drying himself off in the bedroom. He had told Faridah that he was going to walk down to the convenient store to see about finding them something to eat. Faridah got out of the shower and, thinking that Adam had already left, stepped out into the bedroom to dry off. They both looked at each other standing naked in the close confines of the hotel room and froze in stunned silence. Adam looked at Faridah standing in the doorway. She apparently never tanned, as her body was the same pearly white as her face. Adam knew that she was quite strong, but her body was slim and sleek. She had already toweled off her hair, and it was back to its usual spiky appearance, creating an appealing contrast with the smoothness of everything else. Her breasts weren't large, but they were quite firm, and the way that the water ran off of them was mesmerizing to Adam. Faridah was just as mesmerized looking at him. The fact that his limbs were mechanical didn't even register in her mind. She was stunned by how, well, _beautiful_ they were. The glossy metal caught and reflected the light, while the matte finish of the carbon fiber provided a subtle contrast. The limbs were accented with red anodized titanium in the pivots of the joints. It was as though an artist had provided just as much input as the biomedical engineers who had designed the prosthetics. She looked over his entire body, taking in everything that had been replaced as well as everything that hadn't. She looked up at his face, a stunning combination of natural and artificial. His facial hair wasn't exactly long, but it was longer than stubble, and he had it trimmed into a rather pointed goatee that accented his angular facial features quite well. The implants for his sunglasses were embedded into his temples, calling attention to his eyes, or rather, the eyes that Sarif Industries replaced them with. Faridah rarely got to see his eyes, but now that his sunglasses were retracted, they grabbed her attention. They were actually very highly sophisticated cameras, but that didn't detract from their beauty. If anything, it added to it. Two green and amber orbs, brighter than any human eyes, fixed squarely on her. Just as she had been with his arms, she was surprised by how human his artificial eyes still seemed. They still conveyed emotion, and when she looked into his eyes, she felt like she could still look into _him_.

It took several moments before either of them realized that the other one was there. They both came to this realization simultaneously. Adam reacted first, blushing deeply and hurrying to cover himself with a towel. "I'm—I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I wasn't expecting you to—"Faridah blushed just as deeply and retreated quickly back into the bathroom, stammering an awkward apology. "It's m-my fault. I didn't know you were still here, I should have s-said something." Adam dressed quickly and left the room, heading to the convenient store to find something to eat. He felt almost intoxicated, and he shook himself in the cold night air to clear his head. He hadn't felt like that since, well, since Meagan. He hadn't been properly aroused since the incident that recreated him, and until that moment in the hotel room, he had assumed that his injuries and augmentation had rendered him impotent. He knew that he should put those thoughts out of his mind. She was a coworker, for Christ's sake. Hell, not even just a coworker, a comrade, support in a fight. He needed that relationship to get complicated like he needed another hole in his head. Still, there was something about Faridah Malik that was special. Maybe it was the fact that they spent so much time together, maybe it was the fact that he had saved her life, but for some reason, he felt something towards her that was slightly different, but just as powerful as what he had felt with Meagan. Faridah sat on her bed in the hotel room lost in more or less the same train of thought as Adam. She knew that she shouldn't do anything to compromise their working relationship, but damn—there was something about Adam...

This wasn't the first time that she had felt this way. She had thought of him, of them, often when she was alone, or on a particularly long flight while the autopilot was flying the bird. At first, she thought that maybe it was just Nightingale Syndrome: Adam had saved her life, so she felt attached to him. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized the truth. She hadn't started feeling this way after he saved her life. She felt this way before, during the first trip to Hengsha, when Adam helped her take down her friend's murderer. He seemed to genuinely care for her, and that was something that she didn't see very often. Every other guy that she'd been involved with just seemed to gradually drift away, but with Adam, it felt like they were gradually getting closer. She barely noticed Adam walking in with a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and two bananas. They ate more or less in silence, with occasional snippets of meaningless small talk. Adam stood up to throw the trash away in the bathroom and as he reached down to get the empty cereal box, his fingers brushed against Faridah's. She held onto his fingertips for the briefest moment before he walked over to the trash can. When Adam turned around, Faridah was standing in front of him, her bathrobe lying at her feet. She hooked one arm around his waist, and raised her other hand to his face. It was just another one of those moments where each knew what the other was thinking without a single word being spoken. Adam leaned down and kissed her. They stood there for a full minute, their lips pressed together, their arms wrapped around each other's bodies, each the other's world entire. They parted after a minute, gazing into each other's eyes, neither of them caring that Adam was more metal than flesh, or that they worked together and that Sarif probably wouldn't be terribly happy about what was happening. Neither of them caring about anything, for that matter. After a few seconds, Malik's eyes got that familiar sparkle to them again, and with sudden vigor, she shoved Adam against the wall and pressed herself close to him, pinning his arms to his sides, moving her body against his, biting his lower lip. Hard. Adam was taken completely by surprise, although, given Malik's personality, he probably should have expected something like this, he reasoned. They were both breathing heavily at this point. "Malik. Faridah," he said. "Wouldn't this be a little bit more comfortable on, you know, the bed?" She pulled off his robe and threw it aside. "What makes you think I give a damn about being comfortable, Spy Boy?" she asked, as she turned off the light.

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><p>***<em>And there you have it. The first chapter of "Icarus and Daedalus." I hope that it was as enjoyable to read as it was to write. Again, I appologize for the length. I know that a lot of you prefer shorter chapters that are easier to read in one sitting. I made this one long because I wanted to display a few different writing styles that will be found throughout the story. There's character background, there's some dialogue, there's descriptive passages, there's action, and there's sex. Speaking of sex, let's have a brief discussion about that subject. YES, this story will feature a romance between Faridah and Adam. I have yet to find a good Deus Ex fanfic that features a romance between these two characters, and I think that a lot of people have been looking for one. NO, the romance will not be the only thing that the story focuses on, and NO, I will not turn Malik into a Mary Sue-ish character.<br>__As for the sex scene, I debated long and hard (no pun intended) over it. My main worry was that it happened way too fast. Think of it this way: things have happened since the end of the game that the reader doesn't know about, and Farida and Adam have become closer. Also, I have an idea about how I'm going to continue writing that should allow me to still be able to build up a sexual tension between the two. I will not turn this into some sappy love story. If you're familiar with the characters of Michael and Fiona from USA Network's "Burn Notice," that's the dynamic that I'm picturing for Faridah and Adam.  
>The main reason that I wrote the sex scene in the first chapter is because I've never written one before. This story featuring a romance, there will be at least one more sex scene (and probably more) in the story, though not necesarily between Faridah and Adam. So, I figured since I had no experience with that, I'd throw it out there and let you readers give me your input about how to improve it (along with everything else). If you have any suggestions, let me know. However, bear this in mind: The sex scene in this chapter was not explicitly described. This WILL NOT change. I went into good detail about the bodies of Adam and Faridah because I wanted to paint a picture of how they saw each other at that moment. I hope that it was visually descriptive without being tasteless. That being said, the sex scenes will leave most of the details to the imagination. We're all big boys and girls, and we all know what happens when two people get naked and turn out the lights. If you're looking for pornographic descriptions and dialogue, look elsewhere. Perhaps a website devoted to pornography. Also, I hope that this was written in such a way that it was appealing to both male and female readers. To achieve this, I tried do give detailed descriptions of Faridah AND Adam. This is my goal. If I have missed that, please help me get back on track. That's really all I have to say about the sex.<br>As for what's coming next, expect deception, intrigue, romance, grit, and much more. It hasn't quite gotten there yet, but this will be for mature readers only. I'm planning on having Adam do some PI work unrelated to Sarif and giving some assistance to the police (like the Detroit sidequest where you help the undercover cop), and some of this stuff will be very dark and possibly disturbing. It's an interesting style to explore from an artistic standpoint. If I think it's going to be very bad, I will endeavour to write in such a way that people who want to can skip it without missing important overall plot details.  
>So, I believe that's that. I hope that you enjoyed this first chapter. Thank you very much for the time that you spent reading it, and I hope that you will follow this story as I write it. Please review.<br>-Markspectre  
><em>***


	2. Chapter 2

Icarus and Daedalus

Chapter 2

_***Okay, folks. Here's the next instalment of my story. If you've made it to this chapter, hopefully you've decided that my work is worth reading, for which I am most grateful. I wanted to get this to you much sooner, but December was all kinds of fucked up. Having to bury both of your grandmothers in the same month tends to put more pressing things than fanfiction on your mind. That being said, my writer's block has finally lifted, and the next chapter awaits. To all of the reviewers who despised my formatting in the previous chapter, I have heard your concerns. Hopefully you will find this one easier to read. If not, please tell me, as I'm always trying to improve what I publish here. And now, read on, dear friends._

_UPDATE: This has been up for awhile now. If people actually are reading this, please review. If I get no feedback, I'm going to assume that nobody is interested in this story and I'll stop writing new chapters.***_

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><p>He dreamt of Faridah Malik. He dreamt of their bodies moving as one. Connected. The air filled with heavy breathing and cries of ecstasy. His electronic sensory receptors telling him everything about her body. Her temperature. Her scent. The smoothness of her skin, flawless, save for a scar below her armpit just behind her left breast, courtesy of a Belltower rifleman in Lower Hengsha. The pitch of her voice when she cried his name: something close to a high C. He dreamt of the way she had moved; locking her legs around his waist, arching her back upward from the bed as he moved. He dreamt of their final exertion and subsequent collapse into an exhausted heap, of Malik wrapping his arms around her and moving close to him as she fell asleep, nestling herself in a cocoon of carbon, steel, and flesh.<p>

He awoke with a contented smile on his face. Eyes still closed, he reached over with his augmented arm, expecting it to drape across Faridah's slender frame. Instead, it brushed through empty space. Confused, he opened his eyes, wondering if perhaps it _had_ been just a dream. He found the note on her pillow. The message was short, and written in her familiar handwriting: neat and even, not unlike the lettering stenciled on the sides of supply crates.

_Spy Boy,_

_Went to the VTOL to make sure everything's good for the flight to Detroit. Meet me at the helipad. If I'm not there, then meet me at the café across from the pub that we were in last night._

_-Fly Girl_

Below the writing, she had drawn a surprisingly detailed set of lips. Adam smiled. Since she never wore makeup, it was her version of kissing the note with freshly applied lipstick. Adam dressed, went downstairs, and exited the hotel. He found Faridah at the helipad sealing the VTOL and finishing her external inspection. "Hey there," she greeted. "I think this bird did just fine in the storm last night. Feel like grabbing some breakfast before we head home?" "Of course," Adam replied. They embraced casually, but as Adam leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, she turned suddenly away and began walking down the stairs.

They ate breakfast in more or less an awkward silence. They were famished, and the food was excellent. Eggs Benedict with whitefish, caught fresh from Lake Superior before sunrise that morning. An odd-sounding combination to be sure, but quite good. Faridah wasn't paying much attention to the food. She felt bad about pulling away from Adam back at the helipad, and she was pretty sure that he had noticed. Still, they couldn't very well start up some romance; they worked together. Anyway, Adam probably didn't have the greatest impression of her right now. She felt stupid about how she had conducted herself the night before. Stupid, and slightly ashamed. Here she was, a 26 year-old woman, and she had acted like a damn hormone-crazed freshman girl. She had jumped her best friend in a hotel room for God's sake. Her actions must have seemed both desperate and rather slutty. She had hoped that they might somehow fall for each other one day, but now it seemed rather unlikely. Spur of the moment sex between two friends usually killed off any chance of romance, at least in her experience. She also feared that their friendship and working relationship would be compromised. As the weight of all of these thoughts hit her, she stood up suddenly, choking back a small sob. She didn't want Adam to see her like this. Adam looked at her with a puzzled expression, and she mumbled something about getting the VTOL started up before quickly walking out of the restaurant and into the light rain that had started outside.

Adam paid for the breakfast and started walking towards the helipad. He had become quite skilled at reading people during his career as a detective, so he didn't need his CASIE aug to tell him what was wrong with Faridah. The fact was, she was wrong. Adam didn't think any less of Faridah. He realized that they couldn't start a romantic relationship, but he saw no reason that their professional relationship or their friendship needed to suffer. He walked into the VTOL and saw Faridah sitting in the pilot's chair, crying. "Faridah, I think we should go ahead and talk about last night and just get it out of the way," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I understand that you're upset and that you're afraid for our friendship. The truth is, I don't think any less of you because of what happened." Faridah turned to look at him, a small smile beginning to appear on her face. "So, we're okay?" she asked. "Yes," replied Adam. "We're fine. I value you as a dear friend of mine, Faridah. I don't want that to change. That being said, last night probably shouldn't happen again. We _do_ work together, and if things get complicated between us, given the nature of our work, it could put both of us at risk." Faridah agreed with him. "You're right," she said. "That was just two people blowing off steam. I hadn't planned to make a habit of it. Now strap in, Spy Boy. David's going to be expecting us." Faridah kissed Adam on the cheek before turning around and starting up the VTOL. Expertly manipulating the controls, Faridah lifted off of the helipad and soared into the gray, cloudy sky.

* * *

><p>Faridah landed the VTOL at the Sarif Industries helipad, and the two agents stepped out and began walking towards the building. As soon as they set foot inside the building, Sarif's voice shouted loudly in Adam's Infolink. "Jensen!" he yelled. "What the hell were you thinking last night? Get your asses in my office, now!"<p>

No matter how loud someone screamed over an Infolink, the sound could not be heard by anyone other than the person with the augmentation, however, the sheer volume of the voice inside his ear caused Adam to wince visibly, prompting Faridah to ask him what was wrong. "Sarif's pissed," he replied simply. "Shit," Faridah muttered.

Sarif rounded on the two agents as soon as they stepped over the threshold of his office. "As you're both aware, I can access Adam's augmented eyes and his Infolink to get a real-time feed of what he's doing in the field. Which means I saw everything that happened last night. Start talking."

"About the hacker?" asked Jensen. Sarif was slightly confused for a moment. "What the…? Yes, of course about the hacker! Jesus, Adam, what else would I be asking about?"

Adam related the previous night's events in detail, explaining the firefight, and explaining that the last thug had slipped past them as they went out to confirm that all threats were neutralized. Adam was beginning to feel frustrated with Sarif. It was one thing for Sarif to be upset with Adam and Faridah's "poor performance," but Sarif hadn't been there getting shot at. Jensen and Malik had been significantly outmanned and outgunned, yet they had still managed to neutralize all threats and come out without a single injury to either of them. Were Adam in Sarif's position, he would be commending the field agents for coming out of the situation so well.

Sarif finished his rant by asking "Christ, what do I pay you two for?" Adam could bite his tongue no more, and he responded with barely concealed anger, "All due respect, _boss_, but you weren't there last night. We went in practically unarmed to a situation that was supposed to be clear of any threats, based on the intel that _you_ gave us. If you have a problem with our performance in the field, then maybe you can pick up a weapon and come with us next time. Otherwise, get off my ass!"

After a few seconds of the two alpha males glaring at each other, Sarif finally calmed down. "Alright, Adam," he said. "I apologize. You're right. You got blindsided, but you both made it out safe and sound. That's what's important."

Adam apologized as well. "I'm sorry too, boss. Look, just get a fix on this hacker, we'll go in heavy, and we'll have him back here in no time."

"That's the problem," Sarif replied. "He's in the wind. I've got Pritchard pulling out all the stops to find him again, but it's going to take some time. Look, you two have had quite the adventure, and there's nothing pressing to be done right now. Go home and relax for a bit. When something comes up, I'll call you."

Faridah and Adam thanked Sarif and began walking out of the office. Sarif called out as they left, "Oh, Adam. Somebody came by the office looking for you. Sounded like a gig. It was some lady looking for a PI. I left you the details in an email on your computer in your apartment." "Thanks," Adam responded as he walked out the door. "I'll look at it when I get home."

As Adam and Faridah walked to the penthouse elevator, Faridah made one of her trademark sarcastic quips to Adam. "Always nice to get a warm welcome, huh?" "Oh, I don't know," replied Adam. "I wasn't overcome by the urge to kick David in the balls, so I'd say it went reasonably well in there."

* * *

><p>The man sat in his dimly lit office, reclining in a large wing-backed leather chair, and smoking a large calabash pipe. It was a strangely furnished office, to be sure. The desk was occupied by a state-of-the-art personal computer, and one wall was covered by a high resolution screen used for video calls. Simultaneously occupying the room in stark contrast to the high-tech equipment were several antiques, all of which were older than the man sitting at the desk. The antiques consisted of very old paintings, sculptures, books, two chairs and a large rug, intricately woven by hand and easily the oldest thing in the room.<p>

All of the antiques were adorned with various symbols and images. None of these would be understood by the average person, though a few would be recognized by anyone who had examined a one-dollar bill. If someone had looked at the man sitting in the office, they would never have guessed what he actually did, but they likely would have guessed that he was an extremely powerful man. And they would have been correct. He was arguably the most powerful man in the world, though only a handful of people in the world even knew of his existence.

Right on time, a call came into the office. The man sitting at the desk answered the call and turned to face his video screen. The caller was a younger man, an associate of the man at the desk. It was their custom to black out their images during video calls, appearing only as silhouettes, but each man instantly recognized the other's voice. They had worked together for years, and currently, they had much to discuss.

After the greetings and formalities, the younger man spoke first. "It gives me no pleasure to inform you that our friend's plan was a disaster, as I predicted."

The older man snorted. "You predicted?" he asked with a slightly mocking tone. "I knew that it would fail long before you did. That's what happens when you send boys to do a man's job."

"Then why didn't you intervene?" the younger man inquired.

"Because now," replied the older one, "he might listen to me. Especially after the 'discussion' I'm going to be having with him very soon."

"Be careful, my friend," cautioned the man on the other end of the video feed. "You know what our friend's sentiments are towards us right now. Push him too hard, and he's liable to make good on his threat."

The older man sighed with the air of a man who was accepting his defeat in a battle. "I'm afraid nothing will stop that, my friend. We can appease him all we like to entice him to stay with us, but I believe that we are only delaying the inevitable."

"I'm starting to fear that you're right," replied the other man. "In that case, why not sever all ties now? We can get rid of him and get him out of the loop while we deal with the business that he was supposed to take care of."

The old man chuckled. "You still have much to learn, my young _padawan_," he said, referencing a decades-old science fiction film. "He will never be truly out of the loop. Even when he is gone, he will have eyes and ears among us. But once he's gone, it will be much harder for us to be in the loop about _his_ activities. The task that I gave him still needs to be done, and until it is, I want him where I can keep an eye on him."

The young man couldn't help but question the older man's judgment. "I say this with all due respect, but is this even a problem worth worrying about? It's one man that we're talking about, correct?"

"That's precisely what Hugh Darrow thought, my friend," the old man replied. "Look what happened to him."

"I understand." The younger man paused for a moment. "I read the information that you sent me. Am I understanding this correctly? You want me to assume the responsibility for this task?"

"You are to assume leadership," replied the old man. "Our friend will now answer to you in this matter. And before you voice concern, I will make certain that he will cooperate with you."

"Understood," was the young man's reply. "Until later. Farewell, my friend."

"Farewell."

The older man terminated the video link and sat for a minute in his chair, pondering the situation at hand. These were indeed turbulent times. One way or another, things would soon change. For better or for worse was anyone's guess. The only certainty was that once changed, they would never be the same again. His secretary chimed in on the intercom built into his desk.

"Mr. Page is here to see you, sir."

He squared his shoulders, preparing for the heated discussion that was about to take place.

"Send him in."

* * *

><p><em>***And thus ends the second chapter. As always, please review, and favorite methe story if you enjoyed it. As for the reviews, don't bother giving me flak about the cafe scene with Faridah and Adam where they deal with the awkward feelings that occur when two good friends make passionate love for the first time. I'm aware that it's not terribly well written (it's certainly below my standard). Unfortunately, if I decided to get hung up on making it really good, I fear I'd still be stuck. I needed to move the story along, so please forgive me for the less-than-stellar writing at that spot. I hope that you found the rest of the chapter to be better written. Also, the final scene is deliberately ambiguous. The _Deus Ex-_style conspiracy is now begining. Thanks for reading. Please review if you want to see more of this._

_UPDATE: Once again, if I get no feedback, the story goes away. If you've read this far, please take the time to write a brief review of my work. I live for it. (Well, not really, but I DO write for it.***_


	3. Chapter 3

Icarus and Daedalus

Chapter 3

_**Alright, on to chapter 3. Let's get the usual legal disclaimer out of the way. All characters are the property of their respective owners, except original characters, which belong to me. I know it's been awhile since I last published, but I ended up pushing the original chapter back to chapter four, and writing this as chapter 3. The original third chapter featured more of Adam and Faridah, but after careful consideration, I decided that this chapter needed to happen first. Things are about to get interesting, so read on.**_

* * *

><p>The dark figure stood just outside of a café on one of the innumerable sidewalks in London. Anyone passing by would say that the figure looked extremely suspicious, and they would be correct. If they had any idea of what he was preparing to do, they would run to the police, but fortunately for him, none of the passersby had any knowledge of his intentions that night. After all, London was a huge city, and one suspicious-looking person standing outside in the rain was nothing to get worked up about.<p>

The man wore a large oilcloth coat, leather boots, and gloves. A large hood covered his face and shielded him from the driving thunderstorm that he was standing in. Standing in a thunderstorm was never pleasant, but the weather did have its advantages. It gave him a perfect excuse to completely obscure his face and skin. No one would question him wearing a coat, hood, and gloves in the rain, and if anyone remembered that he had been there, they wouldn't be able to provide a single detail for a description of what he looked like. This was important, given what he was preparing to do. He lit a cigarette and stood quietly smoking on the sidewalk, checking his watch, and waiting for his contact to arrive.

Right on time, a taxicab pulled up to the sidewalk, and a tall, similarly clothed man stepped out carrying a large bag from a local pastry shop. Walking up to the man who was smoking, he offered his greeting, handing over the bag as he did.

-"Nice weather. I'm glad you're standing in it instead of me," said the second man.

-"Whatever," said the first man indifferently. "What do you have for me?"

-"He lives in apartment 313B. Third floor," replied the second man. "You're probably going to want to wait for him to come home and follow him inside. The lock is pretty advanced. I wouldn't trust your chances at breaking in."

-"Good to know," said the first man. "Did our friends set everything up?"

-"Everything's good to go," confirmed the second. "All that you need is in the bag."

The first man looked in the pastry bag that he had been given and saw a 10mm pistol, a loaded magazine, a large silencer, and a set of car keys.

The second man continued, "The gun's clean. No prints, no serial number. The car is at the other side of this alley, just to the left. It's a black Ford."

-"Got it," responded the first man. "I assume it's a rental?"

-"Yeah, Heathrow Airport," replied the second. "Drop it off later tonight when you fly out of here. Need anything else?"

-"No, that should be fine," answered the first man.

-"Glad to hear it," said the second man as he flagged down an approaching taxi.

-"Oh, and Bob?" he said as he entered the cab. "This is your last chance. Don't fuck this up."

* * *

><p>Hugh Darrow walked through the front doors of his apartment building, glad to be out of the rain. The weather was doing an excellent job of reflecting his current mood. Dark. Melancholy. Hopeless. He had been in hiding for months, and while he was quite good at not being found, he knew that he was only delaying the inevitable. The Illuminati were not people who ever gave up, and one way or another, if they wanted to find someone, they found him. There were some days where he grew so tired of hiding from his inevitable end that he considered simply delivering himself into the hands of the ones hunting him. At least then it would all be over.<p>

But of course, he never did. That would be too easy. He had done far too much at Panchaea to simply give up, and while his situation was grim, he was not completely alone. He had become connected with a group that was determined to oppose and ultimately dismantle the Illuminati once and for all. While they couldn't protect him forever, they could keep his hunters at bay for a while, and Hugh believed in what they were doing. For that, he would hold out as long as he could and spend every day furthering the cause of his new group.

As Darrow walked across the lobby, he reflected once more, as he often did, about his actions involving Panchea and the mass insanity that he initiated. He was torn, and often had doubts as to whether or not he had done the right thing. On the one hand, the Illuminati were planning on using augmentation technology to literally rule the world, something that Hugh simply couldn't allow. On the other hand, he had personally ensured the deaths of thousands of people with his biochip stunt. Was he really any better than those that he now sought to oppose? He supposed that ultimately, yes, he was.

Perhaps he was an idealist, but he had always felt that the Illuminati's job was to _influence_ and _suggest_ rather than directly control things. Once he had realized that the Illuminati were directly pulling the strings with regards to the augmentation issue, he had decided to stop it. Yes, he had killed thousands of people, but finally, at least with this issue, society was making its own decisions about how it should proceed. So, yes, ultimately, he was better than the Illuminati. Not to mention, he was now involved heavily with a group directly opposing them, trying to right the wrongs that had been committed. Perhaps if he kept telling himself that, he'd be able to get to sleep…

Darrow walked across the lobby towards the stairwell, so absorbed in his own thoughts that he never noticed the dark, hooded figure that walked up silently behind him, following him up the stairs. Halfway up, he sensed a presence behind him and turned around, finding himself facing the muzzle of a pistol and the cold gaze of Bob Page.

-"Hello, Hugh. Let's go to your room."

The two men sat silently in chairs across from each other in the living room of Hugh's apartment. The dwelling was dark, save for a lamp on the coffee table that Hugh turned on and the periodic flashes of lightning that illuminated the room. While he tried hard not to show it, Hugh was terrified. He had known that this day would eventually come, but now that it was here, he wasn't so sure that he was ready to face it. Bob, however, was completely emotionless. He simply sat across from Hugh silently and stone-faced, pointing his pistol squarely at Darrow's heart. Finally, Hugh broke the silence.

-"You don't have to do this," he said. "I'm an enemy of the Illuminati, you are as well. You could let me go, and we can both just walk away."

-"Well, Darrow, that's where you're wrong. I'm not an enemy. Not yet, anyway," said Page.

Darrow's heart sank, his last hope destroyed. "So, you haven't left yet?" he asked.

-"No," replied Page. "I haven't. It's not the opportune time yet. For now, I'm part of the club."

-"Look, Bob, please," said Hugh. "We all know you're sick and tired of this bullshit. Morgan, Lucius, Stanton, all of them. Everyone's known for years, it's no secret. Why not leave now? Just let me go. Hell, come _with_ me. There's already a group set up to oppose the Illuminati."

Bob gave a snort of derision. "What, join your Juggernaut Collective?" he asked. "Yes, I know all about it," he said in response to Hugh's look of surprise. "But my plan involves something else entirely. A group not so different than the Illuminati, but under _my_ control."

-"Bob," said Hugh, almost pleading. "Please. We were close friends. If you let me go, I'll disappear, and you can report back that you killed me. You don't have to do this."

-"Yes, Hugh, we _were_ friends. Past tense," said Page, angry now. "Your little stunt at Panchaea didn't just betray the organization. We all lost people that we cared about, myself included, when half the world's population went crazy. Right now, staying loyal is advantageous to my ultimate goals, and that means that it's time for you to go."

-"Bob…"

-"You should admit your situation," said Page. "There would be more dignity to it."

-"You go to hell," spat Darrow.

-"I'm sure we'll meet each other there one day," said Bob with a slight smirk. "I just want to know one more thing. _Why_? Why the hell did you do what you did back on that station?"

Hugh sighed. "Because we were violating what was supposed to be a key principle of our order," he replied. "We suggest, we influence, but ultimately, society decides for itself. We don't _ever _take the reins ourselves. That's the rule I always followed. When our order decided to violate it, I decided to return the choice to the people."

-"Let me ask you something, Hugh," said Page. "If the rule you followed brought you to this, then of what use was the rule?"

-"You know, I must say I'm a little surprised," said Darrow, without answering Page. "I did not expect to see _your_ face right now. I'd have thought that you've advanced beyond wet work."

-"I made a mistake," said Page indifferently. "This is how I'm making up for it. Goodbye, Hugh."

With that, Bob Page raised his silenced pistol, aiming directly at Darrow's forehead. He switched off the lamp, plunging the apartment into darkness, and then waited, silently, for several moments.

-"What are you waiting for?" asked Darrow.

As if in answer to his question, lighting flashed outside, illuminating the entire living room. Almost immediately, a deafening clap of thunder crashed outside as Bob squeezed the trigger.

* * *

><p>James McTavisch ran up the street towards The Bull and Bush, an English-style pub set in one of the many streets in Chicago's entertainment district. He was late for a meeting with an associate of his, and this particular associate did not appreciate tardiness. In addition to this, he had just received some news that did not bode well for anyone in his organization, and he was frantic to report it to his superior. James sprinted the last one hundred yards to the pub and practically crashed through the doors in his haste to get inside. Once inside, he began looking around frantically for the man that he was supposed to meet.<p>

-"Over here, bratán, "said a man sitting at a table in the rear of the bar in a heavy Russian accent.

James sat down at the table, breathing heavily. "I g-got here as f-fast as I c-could," he panted.

The first man passed him a large tumbler of water. "Drink this. You look like you're about to pass out," he said.

-"Sorry," said James. "My flight got in late and I wanted to make it here on time. This is bad, Quinn. Really bad."

-"Slow down," said Quinn. "Tell me what's going on."

James slowed down his breathing as well as the pace of his speech and began to speak.

-"I got to London and went to Darrow's apartment like you instructed. To investigate the rumor. When I got there, the police were crawling all over the place. It's true, Quinn. He's dead."

-"You're sure of this?" asked Quinn. "It wasn't a fabrication by the police?"

-"Quinn, I saw his body," said James, slightly disturbed. "He was murdered. Executed."

Quinn sighed. "I had feared as much. Do we know who was responsible?"

-"I didn't at first," said James. "The police weren't volunteering any information, and I didn't want to attract attention. But, I began to investigate. I don't think the police are tampering with evidence. They seem to be doing a legitimate investigation. Not that it will yield any results."

James paused, finishing his glass of water, then continued.

-"Once the police had more or less vacated the crime scene, I went back to Darrow's apartment to look around. I figured that Darrow would have some kind of passive security that might give us information. A recording or something."

Quinn nodded. "It's something he would have picked up from the Illuminati. He was careful. Did you find anything?" he asked.

-"Yes," answered James. "A small microphone concealed inside of a clock. No video, but it picked up his final conversation perfectly."

At this point, James became visibly shaken. Frightened, even. With a slightly shaky voice, he continued.

-"Quinn," he said, "It was Page. Bob Page. He murdered Hugh."

Quinn swore softly in Russian. James continued to speak.

-"It gets worse, Quinn. He knows. About us. He knows."

-"Of course he knows," said Quinn. "The Collective fought the Illuminati a few years ago and was all but wiped out. But as far as they know, it's stayed that way. All that Bob knows is that we used to exist. Our return to action has been quite silent."

-"No," said James. "He knows about us _now_. He knows that we're active again. The hit on Hugh wasn't just Illuminati retribution for his actions at Panchaea. Page knew that Hugh was involved with us."

Quinn looked as though he had seen a ghost. "How…"

-"I don't know how," said James. "But one way or another, he knows. Quinn…?"

Quinn pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed. "Very well, James. It's begun. Far sooner than we had hoped, but it has begun never the less. You know what to do. Contact Dervish, Crow, Price, Goodman. The old crowd. Tell them that we've been discovered. They'll know what to do."

-"What about you, Quinn?" asked James.

-"I have calls of my own to make," replied Quinn. "I'll be in touch soon. Good luck, bratán."

-"Likewise," said James before rising from the table and walking out of the bar.

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, Quinn stood on the rooftop of a medium-rise office building. One hundred feet above street level, he could conduct his next phone call without having to worry about eavesdroppers. The very existence of this man was known to very few people. Although they communicated regularly, Quinn could count on one hand the number of times that he had seen him in person. The call went through, and Quinn spoke first.<p>

-"Janus," he said. "I just spoke with McTavisch. It's true. Darrow is dead, and Page knows about us."

Quinn then related to Janus everything that he had been told by James. Janus's reply was short.

-"I will assume that you have begun notifying the appropriate people. Your next call will be to our friend from the East. After that, lay low. I will contact you soon."

-"Janus," said Quinn, before the call was terminated. "About Detroit: We need to move up our timetable. I fear we no longer have time to do this as slowly as we had planned."

-"Use your best judgment," replied Janus. "But don't waste valuable time pursuing an asset that we aren't even sure about. We can't afford to waste effort that could be better spent elsewhere."

-"It's not a waste," insisted Quinn. "You know as well as I do that if we want a hope of getting through this, we need Adam Jensen."

* * *

><p><em>** And the plot thickens. The father of augmentation is sleeping with the fishes, so to speak, and two shadow organizations are starting to prepare for battle. A few words on Darrow's murder: I am well aware that the speech patterns and behaviour of Hugh and Bob are different than how they are in the game. This was deliberate. My intention was to make them appear more human, rather than simply an influential billionaire and a powerful man who operates in the shadows, respectively. Hugh loses his very refined speech, which is probably to be expected when one is begging for his life. I also tried to just barely hint at Page showing anger towards Hugh regarding Panchaea. It is implied that Hugh's actions hurt him on a personal, emotional level, and that he is acting partly out of anger, as well as carrying out an assigned task.<em>

_As for the scene itself, it should remind you strongly of the death of Carson Wells in the film _No Country for Old Men_, based on Cormac McCarthy's novel of the same name. It is one of my favorite films/books of all time, and I thought that the scene would fit here as well. It was meant as an homage to the Coen brothers and McCarthy, not as a rip-off._

_As for the second half, Garvin Quinn is back. After playing _The Missing Link_ DLC, and especially after watching the ending scene, I decided that Quinn had to be an important character in this story. For now, he's just going to be an important character. Don't expect to see him "shipped" with anyone else. If you haven't played the DLC and thus, have no idea who the hell I'm refering to, shame on you. Go buy it now and play it. Trust me, it is WELL worth the price._

_McTavisch is an original character who will be making more appearances in the future. Also expect to the see the people that Quinn told McTavisch to call._

_I promise, things are starting to pick up. There may be a bit more time spent setting stuff up, but things are about to start moving, and Hell is about to start breaking loose. For those of you wanting to see more Adam/Faridah romance, all in good time._

_Until next time, dear readers. I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Please, please, please take the time to review. The more you review, the faster I publish.**_

_-Mark Spectre_


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